Snape strode angrily through the deserted corridors, his permanent sneer hiding deep fear. It was long after curfew, but none of the Slytherin students had seen Harry since before his meeting. Every room he had checked had been empty, and he was about to report the disappearance to the headmaster, when he remembered the astronomy tower. The first years had yet to have an astronomy lesson, but judging by Harry’s behaviour a few nights before, the boy had a love of the night sky. It was just possible, despite not knowing its location, Harry had headed for the highest building available.

Sure enough, Harry was there. He was sleeping, one fist desperately digging into his palm. Severus had never seen anyone look so incredibly vulnerable, even through all his years as a death eater. He sighed, face drawn, and silently studied the boy. Here was one whom he had every right to despise, and yet time and time again he was finding it impossible to do so. Imagine, James Potter’s son a Slytherin! And yet perhaps it was not surprising; Lily had once confided to him the hat considered placing her in Slytherin, before deciding her Muggle blood too much of a liability. It was too late to take Harry back to the Slytherin tower without disturbing other students, and Pomfrey was away and had warded the hospital wing to prevent students purloining medical supplies. The boy simply did not need any more notoriety. The lounge in his private chambers would have to do for now.

When Harry awoke an unfamiliar room swam into view. He threw out a hand, searching for his glasses, only to feel them being pressed into his hand. As soon as he put them on however, he wished he hadn’t. Severus Snape was watching him, and he did not look exactly happy.

“Would you like to tell me why you disappeared last night, leaving me to spend HOURS looking for you? Why you did not return safely to the tower, and why you went to the astronomy tower, an area off limits unless accompanied by a teacher?” he said sneeringly.

“I…” Harry stuttered. Perhaps it was the enormity of the questions, or the way they were rapidly fired at him, but he could not formulate an answer. His parents had died, but he had not. He had been left behind, and people knew who he was because of it. Harry did not want any notoriety; he just wanted to be left alone!

“Well, Potter? Incapable of answering a simple question?” Snape asked, interrupting his train of thought.

“Sorry. Won’t happen again,” Harry muttered, flinching as Snape moved closer to him.

Severus froze. Something wasn’t right. The boy was much too nervous for a simple bit of rule breaking. He was acting as if he were about to be struck. Experimentally, Severus lifted his hand, and the boy recoiled again. He placed his hand on Harry’s arm, only to feel it suddenly grow moist while Harry recoiled in horror. Severus stared between the boy and his crimson hand uncomprehendingly.

“Potter! Why are you covered in blood?!!” he shouted, trying to take hold of him once more.

“Don’t feel well,” Harry mumbled, before slumping forward in a dead faint.

Before Severus’ eyes Harry’s defences crumbled, revealing a seriously injured and malnourished boy. His magic had finally failed the constant strain of glamour too much for the powerful young boy. Severus had no idea how he had managed it, and for so long. Somehow, Harry had tamed the wild magic within him, evidently for some time, and used it to his advantage. Poppy was away, while Potter bleed to death in front of him.

“Oh Merlin,” Snape mumbled, running for his potions cabinet.

When he awoke again, Harry felt good. Too good. All of his injuries were healed or healing and once more he was met with the face of an angry Severus Snape. Seeing the fear that crossed Harry’s face, Severus softened his features considerably (for him).

“Harry,” he said in as gentle tone as he could muster. “How do you feel?”

Harry just stared at him dumbly.

“I just want to know how it happened, Harry. You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise you. Look, I’ll tell you something. Your father and I,” Harry showed slight interest at this point, so Severus continued.

“We weren’t friends at school. We hated each other, in fact. But when you were made a Slytherin, I had to choose between old grudges and new responsibilities. I choose the latter, and I won’t deny it was difficult for me to do. I have never before let down a student in my care, and I’m not about to start, despite your parentage. I need you to tell me what happened, so I can help you,”

Harry’s face tightened at this last statement.

“Why would you want to help me?” asked Harry bitterly. “I’m nobody. Less than nobody. Just because the wizarding world thinks I’m a hero doesn’t change anything,”

“You are not ‘nobody’ Harry. You are a Slytherin and I know for a fact that a Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson have been extremely worried about you,” replied Severus.

Harry leant back on the pillows. They had noticed he was gone? Neither of them stared pointedly at his scar, Harry realised with a start.

“Oh,” was all Harry managed to say in response to Severus’ strange revelation.

“Please Harry. I want to help you,” he looked so genuine that Harry felt tears prick his eyes. He hadn’t given the Dursley’s the satisfaction of seeing him cry in years, and now he was about to cry in front of a teacher he had known three days.

“The Dursleys,” he whispered in a tight voice, feeling a single tear slide down his face.

“Thank you,” was all Severus said.

He had confirmation that Harry had been abused. Two nights ago, after Harry had collapsed, Severus had gone to Dumbledore with his suspicions. Albus had defended the Dursleys.

“His family Albus, it has to be them! The boy has confirmed it to me!”

“I can see no evidence of that, Severus, dear boy. We can’t go around accusing muggles of dastardly deeds, think of the damage this could do to muggle-wizarding relations! No, the boy must be lying to you; he is after all, Slytherin,”

“The boy is being abused by someone, Albus; you can’t possibly stand by and do nothing simply because of his house choice!” Severus had said.

“I have made my decision, as Potter did when he choose Slytherin house,” Albus replied in such a way that Severus knew he had lost. The Headmaster had doomed Harry Potter.

Fuming, Severus had left the office. The old codger saw only in black and white. He had Albus’ plans for the great Harry Potter years before the boy had even come to school. Albus had wanted to mould the perfect Gryffindor to defeat Voldemort. Now however, it was ruined because the sorting house had chosen Slytherin. Every hoodwink Albus had placed on that hat and Harry had outsmarted all of them. The sorting hat makes the ultimate decision despite what the Headmaster wants of course, and when Harry directly asked to be placed in Slytherin he had set in motion a process no one could undo. That was the only way to guarantee a house choice, by asking for it, because the hat respected self choice. All of Albus’s plans to make Harry the next Gryffindor spokesman had failed. Hagrid, scared by Harry’s obvious Slytherin qualities the moment they met, had not told him enough of his family to place the mindset of Gryffindor rule in his head. The Weasley family had arrived late at the train station and had the training Ronald Weasley had been getting since he was a small boy useless. Instead, Harry met first Draco Malfoy, and the bitter enmity Albus had suspected for the pair was mere juvenile rivalry. It had been hard for the old codger to take but he had bounced back pretty fast. He had called in wizarding media not long after Severus left the office, revealing the contents of a prophecy made before Harry’s birth by an unknown prophet. The prophecy, as pointed out by Dumbledore, named two boys, and he had mistakenly believed Harry was the boy the prophecy named. Now however, it seemed a young Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, was the new world saviour. To the wizarding world, Dumbledore could do no wrong. Immediately accepted was Dumbledore’s version of the prophecy, and Neville was elevated beyond his wildest dreams. It would be Neville who would be finding clues all year to lead him to the Philosophers stone, not Harry, and this was exactly to Severus’ liking. He knew Voldemort had already made a play for the stone, and it was only a matter of time before he did so again. Neville would be facing the dark lord. Always good to have a backup plan, eh Dumbledore?